


Hero Worship

by butyoumight



Series: Crossing Parallels [5]
Category: Green Day, My Chemical Romance, The Beatles
Genre: AU, Crossing Parallels, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-29
Updated: 2007-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/butyoumight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Honestly. Who woke up to find himself snuggling a bare-chested John Lennon?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero Worship

**Author's Note:**

> An outtake of sorts from the _Crossing Parallels_ universe. The first inclusion of My Chemical Romance into the madness. They like it though.

The first thing Billie Joe noticed as he woke up was the vague feeling of contradiction.

He was on his side, one arm hooked under his pillow. His legs were half-bent, and his free arm rested over smooth skin. At his front, someone was nestled into the curve his body created, as if meant to fit there. A much smaller body, who nuzzled even in complete exhausted sleep, the tiny, almost imperceptible tickle of cool metal noticeable as his lips pursed and he kissed Billie's collar bone as if in a dream.

The contradiction came with the arm around his waist, hand pressed against his stomach, the belonging body pressed against Billie's back. There was a similar touch of metal here, and from experience he knew it to be a wedding band.

There was the tickle of breath on two spots; the back of Billie's neck, making the tiny hairs there stand up, and his chest, making tattooed flesh tingle.

He remembered the night before, drunk and half-carrying the tiny guitarist for My Chemical Romance up to his hotel room. They had spent most of the night throwing themselves at each other, and with a chuckle exchanged between Mike and Tré, and Gerard Way giving what seemed to Billie Joe permission for Frank to go with him, they absconded for bed.

Billie Joe was reasonably proud, getting three orgasms out of Frank in one night, but he was also impressed that Frank matched him for almost every touch and feel, managing to pull two climaxes out of Billie Joe before they both collapsed, damp with sweat, sticky, and perfectly at ease.

But now there was a third body in bed, and Billie Joe wasn't sure who it could be.

He carefully slipped out from between the two bodies and slithered to the foot of the bed, sloping to his feet, working some kinks out of his back and neck before he turned his attentions to the bed. As he caught sight of the wild tangle of hair and the clean, freckled skin, he gasped aloud.

Frank mumbled something into the space Billie Joe had, until recently, occupied, and shifted across the bed, closing the distance between himself and the other occupant of the bed, who, similarly, slipped his arm around Frank's waist in absence of Billie Joe.

Then they both woke up.

It took Frank maybe three minutes to realize who he was sharing a bed with, and Billie Joe took this time to step away from the bed and cover his ears. Frank, he knew from experience, had a tendency to be very, very loud.

Frank screamed, waking John from his own slumber. The slightest man scrambled away from the seeming ghost in his bed, tumbling to the floor in a flurry of terrified squeaks and bed linen.

John began shouting angrily; the loudness of Frank's screams annoying him. Billie Joe tried really hard not to laugh, honestly, but the image was too fucking funny. Hands still over his ears, he giggled himself breathless, sure that the rest of the poor occupants of this floor must truly think them depraved, it being only something like eight am.

As Frank's screams slowly began to subside, primarily from lack of breath, and John's angry shouts faded into angry mumbling, Billie finally lowered his hands, still laughing, and returned to the bed, perching on his knees and eyeing them both, a mischievous twinkle in brilliant green eyes.

He had a once in a lifetime (maybe. He was never quite sure when John was going to show up) opportunity here. He fully intended to make the best of it.

Provided he could reasonably explain the presence of a young (and very much alive) John Lennon to the trembling little twenty-something on the floor.

John finally went completely silent as he eyed Frank, peering over the edge of the bed, his rumpled mohawk sticking up in every which direction and giving him the appearance of a very terrified houseplant.

John blinked slowly, and Frank gulped audibly as John turned his attention to the third person on the bed, a slow smile breaking his features.

"Oi. Billie. Long time."

Billie glanced down at Frank, moving one hand to smooth down his hair soothingly as he crawled nearer John, passing a hand over his upper chest as he kissed John gently.

Frank squeaked again, becoming more and more convinced that he was totally dreaming. Honestly. Who woke up to find himself snuggling a bare-chested John Lennon?

He watched, totally stricken, as the two songwriters on the bed kissed thoroughly. He wasn't entirely surprised when Billie Joe managed to straddle John's hips and grasp his shoulders with force enough to bruise. If Frank wasn't so (almost inappropriately) enthralled by watching them kiss; he'd noticed bruises on himself in the same place. Billie Joe liked that position.

Finally, they broke apart, John panting but smiling a totally indecipherable smile that sent a shiver down Frank's spine. It was if they were speaking telepathically, and he felt totally out of the loop, not least because, last time he checked, John Lennon was dead.

Billie turned to face him, gesturing with one hand, crooking two fingers. "C'mere, Frank. Meet John."

Frank stuttered for a bit, and John shook his head. "'e always that nervy?"

"Well, no, not usually. Poor thing's probably in shock. Frank? Come here. He doesn't bite."

"Often. The devil likes it, though."

Billie Joe snorted as he finally released his grip on John and crawled back across the bed, offering his hand to Frank. "Come on."

Frank finally steeled himself, taking Billie's offered hand and crawling back onto the bed, dragging the bed linen back with him. Judging by the look in both their eyes, this morning was going to be exponentially more... interesting, than last night, but no way in hell was he giving John Lennon a free look at his goods before the time was right. Talk about your embarrassment.

Billie noticed (Frank's complexion unfortunately made his blushes very obvious, particularly on his upper chest), and smiled encouragingly at Frank, stroking his cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Frank Iero, meet John Lennon."

Frank looked at John. His eyes were... god, way more intense than anyone Frank had ever seen. The slight beams of light creeping in between the hotel curtains caught John's hair, bringing out a reddish glow. His skin was pale, but fairly heavily freckled. He was sort of reminded of Bob, but very different.

"John, this is Frank."

John similarly gave Frank an appraising glance. This kid (indeed, he must be a kid, he was tinier than even Billie Joe) had more tattoos than anyone John had ever seen, including a very fetching pair low on his stomach. He'd always liked those lower tattoos on Billie Joe, but these were enormous, as if a hand could just barely cover either of them. He was drawn to experiment with that, but in just a moment.

First, he had to take a look at those little silver rings, one through his lip, another through one side of his nose. They gave him a very unique appearance, to the man from the nineteen sixties. He moved one hand to run a thumb over Frank's lower lip, pausing at the ring, and Frank squeaked again.

Billie Joe was suddenly behind him, pressing his lips to the slope between Frank's shoulder and neck, licking gently and breathing out, speaking quietly. "It's okay, Frank."

John spoke again, moving his hands down, lifting Frank's left hand between both of his. He spent a moment examining the tattoos on his knuckles, then ran a finger over the engagement band on Frank's fourth finger. He chuckled quietly, looking over Frank's shoulder at Billie and smirking.

"He's awful pretty."

Billie giggled against Frank's shoulder, sending a wave of goose bumps down Frank's arm.

"He loud like that all the time?" John continued, leaning in very close to examine the gauge in Frank's ear.

"Pretty much." Billie said, kissing Frank's shoulder again, then moving up, dragging his teeth over the scorpion inked on Frank's neck, smoothing his tongue over once he's done.

"That's promising." John concluded, sitting back a bit, one eyebrow tweaked in a very 'come hither' manner.

Billie's tongue sneaked further, lapping gently at Frank's earring, closing his teeth over it and tugging, speaking right in his ear, just barely loud enough for John to listen in.

"You have some say in this, you know." Billie snaked one hand around Frank, spreading his hand over his stomach and slipping down beneath the minimal covering, groping him gently. Frank squeaked again, and Billie giggled. John continued to smirk. "I'd say it feels like maybe you're ready to go again, after last night." Billie shifted; moving his attentions to Frank's other side, licking at the surprisingly sensitive tattoo just behind his ear. "John's a pretty great lay."

Frank whimpered slightly as his hips jerked against Billie's hand insistently. Billie's voice fell an octave, going into that range that only dogs and nymphos could hear clearly. "He thinks you're pretty, Frank. Don't you think he's handsome?"

Frank nodded swiftly, even as Billie's hand closed around him proper, beginning a slow stroke. He gulped, eyelids fluttering, as he realized belatedly that John fucking Lennon was jerking himself off to the sight of Billie Joe simply turning Frank on.

Billie smiled proudly, and slowly pulled his hand away from Frank, pulling aside the bed sheet as he did. John made a quiet noise of approval, and Billie slipped away to retrieve his usual regiment of lube and a condom. His voyeuristic tendencies were kicking in, and he was terribly excited at the prospect of watching John fuck Frank into quivering oblivion.

John slowly pulled his hand out of his own boxers before slipping them off, tossing them to the floor. Frank felt half-guilty and mostly turned on, staring blatantly at John Lennon.

Not that he hadn't seen John Lennon's cock before. Everyone had.

But there's something very different between a picture of naked John and naked Yoko, totally un-aroused and probably stoned, and John, naked and turned on and trying really hard to keep his hand away from himself as he reached past Frank to take the offered preparations from Billie Joe.

Frank exhaled softly, and Billie, being the forward bastard he was, literally pushed Frank against John. John smirked, and as he tore open the offered condom, he caught Frank's mouth in a hard and fast kiss, teeth clashing quietly, drawing a half moan-grunt from Frank.

Billie moaned at the very sight of this, removing himself to the end of the bed and perching there on his knees, groping himself hard.

John pulled away from the kiss to negotiate the lube, and Frank found himself leaning against John, cheek pressed to his collarbone and panting needily. God, was he really this much of a slut?

Well, it was John Lennon.

John gripped Frank's shoulder with a slick hand, and a full body shiver-tremor ran through him as he shifted to comply with what he presumed John wanted. He shifted to his knees, and leaned forward, arms beneath his head. He pressed his cheek to his own arm and looked back at John with heavy eyes.

John smiled warmly. He liked this kid. He was a special kind of obedient, something John didn't get often.

He positioned himself behind the tiny man, and smiled as he saw that Frank had even more tattoos. He ran both hands all over Frank's back, over the words high on the back of his neck, the jack-o-lantern. He took pause at three very particular scars, letters carved permanently into his back, then continued down to place his hands firmly over the two pistols inked low on Frank's back.

He and Billie Joe had once talked about 'come fuck me' tattoos. These guns, paired with the birds on Frank's front, definitely fell under that category.

He left his hands there, gripping hard, but not quite hard enough to bruise (he wasn't with the demon this time, after all, and besides, this Frank was very small, he didn't want to hurt him any more than necessary).

Billie Joe moaned loudly as John slowly pushed forward into Frank. The smallest man picked up right along with Billie Joe, and John too followed suit. A sweeter harmony had never been heard.

John tried his damndest to hold back and go slow, but even as Frank's muscles clamped down on him, he pushed back, rolling his hips, drawing John in deeper. Then, with the air of a seasoned professional, he stiffened and wailed as he directed John right to his prostate.

John leaned down after him. He wasn't sure if it was simply some sort of placebo affect, but tattoos had always tasted sweet beneath his mouth, and he couldn't help but trace each letter in the proclamation "Keep the Faith" high on Frank's neck. His tongue found every nuance of each letter as he began to thrust.

Billie Joe moaned again, legs slipping further apart on the bed, head thrown back but eyes still focused down on the pair of them. He loved being a voyeur with hot friends.

John, his mouth having moved to explore the jack-o-lantern instead, wrapped one arm around Frank's waist, reaching to stroke him gently, in time with his thrusts. With each proper thrust inward, as he hit that spot in Frank once more, he would pass a callused thumb right over the head of Frank's cock. The smallest man had become a trembling writhing mass of orgasmic pleasure, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back.

It was Billie Joe, however, who came first. Screaming towards the ceiling, eyes still locked on the pair fucking until the deep throes of orgasm forced his eyes shut.

The sound of Billie coming just by watching them brought Frank off soon after, and John was indeed almost pleasantly surprised that there was someone in the universe who was louder than Billie Joe during sex. Frank screamed without abandon until his throat protested and he wheezed into silence, going limp beneath John, but not before John had climaxed as well, still thrusting slowly through.

John pulled out of Frank and the tiny man collapsed properly, stretching out on the bed, a warm tingle running through his limbs. John removed his condom, considering for a moment before tying it off and tossing it down. Hotels always had had their up side.

Billie, being the slut for cuddling that he was, crawled between Frank and John again, pulling them both close around him.

Frank panted against Billie's chest, reaching across him to rest a hand on John's warm skin.

"This is real, right?" He whispered, voice shot. John chuckled. "This isn't, like, the most elaborate wet dream I've ever had?"

Billie giggled right along with John, kissing Frank's damp forehead. "It's real. Trust me. We're gonna wake up in a couple hours and he'll probably be gone, but it's definitely real."

Frank nodded and dozed off quickly, not usually one for a post sex cigarette, or anything else for that matter.

Billie took a moment to turn around and face John proper, nuzzling his chest. "I missed you."

John wrapped an arm around Billie, but he couldn't help but trace the splashes of color all over Frank's arm as he met Billie's eyes.

"Wonder if th' others came, this time?" John asked quietly. Billie shrugged.

"I don't know. Nice to see just you, though." He yawned slightly, and John moved his free hand to pet Billie's curls.

"Yeah. Go on and go back to sleep now, Billie. See you later."

Billie fell asleep with his ear pressed to John's chest, a near-silent murmur on his lips.

"Later."


End file.
